The Marriage Promise
by LondonBelow
Summary: Aida. Radames, now fourteen, has not seen Amneris in years, so their engagement comes as quite a shock. Will his one-time friend be as he remembers? Or is she a stranger now?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Aida belongs to Tim Rice, Elton John and Verdi. I know ayo is technically Nigerian, but I think Radames probably would have played some variation of it.

In a room flooded with sticky sunlight, fourteen-year-old Radames napped away the worst part of a summer afternoon. He had slept in the same room since early childhood, in the same bed, though the blankets had changed a few times and the toys had disappeared, all save his senet and ayo. The bed had been pushed into the corner since Radames began sleeping in it. At first he had cuddled the wall, hidden fully beneath the blanket. He had been very small then.

Now he sprawled out across the bed. With one arm he shielded his eyes from the sunlight filtering around the curtain; the other lolled against the wall. His left heel rested on the floor.

Surveying his son from the doorway, Zoser registered an unimpressive, scrawny-looking boy with nothing in the way of body hair but peach fuzz on his legs. Most boys his age were at least pretending to shave. As Zoser watched, Radames moaned, shifted his hips and scratched himself. Zoser's features twisted into a grimace of disgust.

Alas. One made do with what one had.

Zoser strode into the room, gave Radames a solid smack on the chest, then tore open the curtains. The sun was near setting. A flood of painful light burst forth. For a moment it was a world of gold beribboned in silver—the Nile with the sun setting beyond. Then it was only pain.

"Up, boy."

Radames groaned and rolled onto his side. The light was an unnecessary punishment as he coughed to catch his breath. "Father," he began weakly, glancing up at Zoser, then thought better of rasping a question in his pathetic state. He caught his breath and sat upright, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. "What is it?" he asked.

The look of distaste on Zoser's face did not fade. "You're to attend a feast tonight at the palace," he announced.

Radames touched his chest. He always secretly hoped the pharaoh would see one of his bruises and ask what had happened. It would be wrong and unwise and very disrespectful to lie to the Son of Isis. "Why?" Radames asked.

"You're to be married."

"I'm _what_?" Radames asked. He struggled to manage, "M-married?" He must have heard wrong. It was someone else's wedding. They were invited as guests. That made much more sense. Fourteen-year-old boys simply did not marry. Radames was still unclear on what one did when married. He had seen the dirty papyrus, who hadn't, but surely _that_ wasn't…

"Don't be a fool," Zoser scoffed. Later, Radames would think to ask how it was his fault, what in Zoser's previous statement could possibly be left to interpretation. "Not now, it's only an engagement. Nevertheless—"

This could not be serious. Radames refused to believe that even Zoser would expect a boy to perform the duties of a man, and not only in the bedroom. Radames barely remembered to clean his teeth every morning; how could he run a household?

"Who?" he interrupted.

"Radames, do you remember running around the palace naked as a child?"

Radames blushed; oh yes, he remembered, but Zoser said it as though this were a common occurrence. "It happened once," Radames mumbled. He was five years old, and it was a hot summer. Anyway it had been Amneris' idea. "You told me I would ruin our good name and you would never be able to marry me off. So who is it to be? Pharaoh's cup-bearer? One of your cast-offs?"

"No, the girl, Amneris." Zoser often spoke casually of serious matters. The expression on Radames' face was invariably priceless.

Amneris? Radames had not seen his playmate in three years, and they were children then. He had grown up, she almost certainly had, too. She would be a stranger now. Sure, they had joked about marrying one another, back before marriage was real, when they spent every afternoon together, but that was years ago.

"Father," he ventured, "can't… I have a say in who I marry?"

Zoser cocked his head to the side slightly and examined Radames, as though thinking over his words. It was, after all, Radames' life, Radames' future. Perhaps he did deserve at least a request or two.

These were the thoughts in Radames' head. The thoughts in Zoser's head were exactly what he said: "No. Get dressed, you can't go to the palace looking like that," Zoser told him, sweeping from the room.

He had made it halfway out the door before Radames asked, "What if I do?" Radames had the utter lack of pride that matched his physique. No matter strong he grew, his muscles staunchly refused to show. He had grown taller, at least, and had fittingly coltish limbs. But Radames would never appear in public dressed as he was, in nothing but a loincloth. The last thing he needed was for the chief piece of gossip in court to be his pathetic lack of lower carpeting.

Not that any of this mattered. He wanted to know what his father would say. As embarrassing as it would be for Radames, it would be worse for Zoser, who came to meetings and counsels in the palace often. Radames had not been there in years and, he expected, would not be for another three or more years.

Zoser said nothing. He whirled, arm raised to backhand his son. Zoser's backhand could send Radames flying. Knowing this, the boy rolled his eyes, heaved a great sigh, and hauled himself off the bed.

_to be continued_

I know Aida doesn't have much of a fanbase, but if you've read this and would like to review that would rock


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those of you who have read and reviewed!

Disclaimer: Aida belongs to Tim Rice, Elton John and Verdi. I know ayo is technically Nigerian, but I think Radames probably would have played some variation of it.

"Radames…"

Whatever Radames expected of his childhood friend, this was not it. At fifteen, Amneris was awkward. She was gangly. She had pretty brown eyes, buck teeth and wild, dirty brown hair forced into two plaits. Her face seemed hidden under a thick paint of freckles. Her gown, designed with every care, folded and crinkled over her chest, but Radames could tell there was nothing there. The cosmetics on her face added to this illusion that she was grown, but it was a cheap trick.

Radames was almost relieved. He would not have been disinterested by beauty, but her awkwardness set him at ease. She looked no more grown up than he felt, yet she looked so different from her childhood self.

It was the gaggle of young women surrounding her that truly unnerved him. Why did women need so many handmaidens? What did they all _do_? How many people did it take to put on make-up and a silly dress? And all of them seemed to be smirking at him in a most unnerving manner. Obviously they knew what he was supposed to do with Amneris, in years' time when they were grown. They probably knew better than he did.

Amneris turned sharply to her handmaidens. "Ladies, this is Radames, my betrothed." She announced this with such comfort he just knew she had been told well before she had, or at least, not an hour previous. Wonderful. Mere hours into the institution of their marriage and their footing was not equal. Why did the gods despise him? Why?

Amneris smiled over her shoulder at Radames, sending him a flash of warm comfort, before telling her handmaidens, "When we were four I beat him at senet and he hid for hours."

They burst into giggles and Radames blushed hotly. The worst part was that it was not true. He felt his temper bubble up. He hadn't lost that game. He had won, and he hid because she burst into tears. Radames remembered that day very clearly. He remembered even the little patch of dirt under a stone bench where he had hidden. At first he cried, then began making drawings in the dirt. He was there a long time.

Radames turned to go. There were things to do at parties. There were people with whom to share meaningless conversations built upon lies of their mutual happiness. There were bits of food to eat. There were cups of strong alcohol to sneak. He did not have to stay and be her plaything. In fact, Radames suddenly realized, he truly did not. He would be her husband one day and that day she would not outrank him.

"Oh, Radames!" Amneris took two steps forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. It froze Radames, unused to the gentleness, softened by her warmth. He felt a sudden blossom of affection for her. "I'm just teasing you," she said, "come back and join us." Though reluctant, Radames turned to join her. He reminded himself again that he would one day be her husband and as such had a duty to see to her happiness. "By all the Gods," Amneris added, "don't be so sensitive!"

He stopped cold. It just… it never stopped, did it? The same thing, all his life, it was all he would ever be. He was a joke to her. One day he would be an embarassment. Suddenly, deeply, Radames believed it. He understood his inescapable fate. It made him sick.

"Radames," Amneris insisted, tugging on his arm.

His wife. She would be his wife. Radames kicked off his sandals and ran, leaving Amneris staring open-mouthed after him.

He ran through the twisting corridors of the palace, ducking to avoid crashing into the busy palace slaves. When he was a child, his father would tell him, "If you don't start behaving, I shall sell you in the marketplace, not that you would fetch a worthwhile price." Radames knew now that an Egyptian could not be sold into slavery on Egyptian soil. Nevertheless, he felt softer towards slaves than most of his countrymen. They had been boys once, as well. Or girls, of course.

So he kept out of their way, not wanting to make anyone's life any worse. He ran the familiar path to the gardens. No one but a few bored guards would be there at such an hour, and what would they care about a boy out of place?

Radames was relieved to feel soil under his feet. He slowed his step, savoring the feeling of earth, of the cool night breeze and the pure silver moonlight.

What had just happened? Radames took a deep breath and tried to replay the scenes in his mind. He tried to remember what made him run away. Perhaps it was the crush of bodies pressed up against him? The chatter? Or was it simply the knowledge that his misery had no limit?

_to be continued_

Pretty please review?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Aida belongs to Tim Rice, Elton John and Verdi. I know ayo is technically Nigerian, but I think Radames probably would have played some variation of it.

Amneris waited a few minutes, smiling and laughing, showing everyone how fine and normal she was. She made a few bad jokes and everyone laughed at them just a little too loudly. Then she quietly, politely excused herself.

What had she said? Oh, Radames. When had her playmate become a man? She had not seen him since three months after he stopped shaving his head. The hair was shocking enough. He was taller now. His body seemed so… well put together. He was thin, but when he flexed she saw muscle pushing against his skin. He had such a handsome face, such clever eyes.

One thing that had not changed was Radames' sensitivity. As a child, he was the same. Somehow she had anticipated his outbursts then. They seemed such silly things. If she held his hand or chattered for a while, the problem went away. It was so simple a child had figured it out.

Amneris and Radames played every day as children. They hated the same sun in the summer. They shared a senet game: every day he ran home at his father's side with a pouch of green tiles in his hand. In those days Amneris sensed the triggers for Radames' little meltdowns, and reacted to the shifts in his body language. When had she become a trigger?

Her stomach hurting from the guilt, Amneris slipped demurely from the feast hall and padded toward the gardens. They had played there almost exclusively as children. It was their place. He would be there. She would say the right words. And all would be well, they would be friends as they always had been.

It was so clearly planned in Amneris' mind, she stopped short at hearing another voice in the gardens. It wasn't right. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Amneris wanted her garden _empty_ but for herself and Radames. Someone had intruded! And she didn't appreciate that! And she was the princess… (Amneris paused to look around before concluding this thought) …dammit!

Then she tiptoed forward. Well whoever had invaded her privacy would not be allowed his, especially if he wanted to use as many obscenities as she heard. Amneris hid in the shrubbery and peeked out. She had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out at what she saw.

The invader was Chief Minister Zoser. He had Radames by the arm and was shaking him as a form of punctuation. "…a lot of trouble to arrange this. Or don't you care about our future?" And Radames' head flopped like a rag doll's. "Or can't you even understand?" Like a bird falling from the sky. "This will stop, Radames. You will stop crying, return to the feast and behave your self for one fucking night!" Like a dead man. Amneris felt sick to her stomach.

"Father," Radames murmured. His eyes were fixed on the ground. "Couldn't I please just—"

So quickly Amneris wasn't sure she saw it, Zoser slapped Radames across the face. Amneris bit down on her hand.

"Stop crying."

"Father—"

Another slap. "Stop it." This time Radames only managed a syllable before Zoser hit him. Radames did not try again. He raised his face, and merely stared as tears dripped down his cheeks. Amneris removed her hand, wiped it on the grass and chewed her lip. After what seemed like an eternity, Zoser swore at Radames. He grabbed a handful of his son's hair and yanked, holding Radames' head still to whisper something fierce that Amneris could not hear.

In one smooth gesture Zoser turned, hurled Radames down and walked away. Amneris knew what would happen before it did, or maybe it was her fear that it would happen. She watched Radames fall. She turned away and heard the horrible sound of bone hitting stone, hard.

Zoser stopped. Amneris felt she might be sick. Radames lay on the ground, not moving. Her pulse thumped in her ears, drowning out other sounds and other thoughts. Radames remained on the ground. This time Amneris could not stifle a small whimper. He had to move. He had to get up. She would never forgive him if he didn't.

"…Daddy…"

Zoser turned and walked away. Radames was twitching, starting to pull himself up, and Zoser walked out of the gardens.

Amneris leapt out of the shrubbery. "Radames!" She hurried over and knelt beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Radames?" Amneris asked. She touched his neck and his hair.

"Umf." Whether this was a response or a moan of pain, Amneris didn't know. She wasn't sure she cared. Radames pushed himself up to his hands and knees, then dropped into sitting position. His jaw was scraped and beginning to bruise. Amneris leaned forward and stroked down his cheek.

When she touched the bruise, he flinched. "Shh-hh," Amneris hummed softly. She placed one hand on his other cheek and ran her fingers over his jaw, across the bruise and the scrape. Radames moaned and trembled. "It's not broken," she told him.

Radames nodded. He opened, his mouth, then closed it and began to weep. He covered his face and wept into his hands. When Radames began to rock, Amneris wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close against her chest. "Shh."

"Amneris…"

He was her playmate, her friend. Amneris remembered, suddenly, being with him, the day she tore her skirt. She had fallen; it was nothing. Even so, when her nurse came to tell them it was time for lunch, Radames blurted, "I did it." She remembered that now. She understood.

The pain in his voice tore at her heart. This was supposed to be a happy night. This night was a celebration.

Amneris looked up at the moon and stroked Radames' hair. "Did your mama sing you lullabies?" She had no memory of her own mother, though considering their fathers, her jealousy of Radames' years with his mother, his memories of her, seemed like a cruel joke.

He nodded. Radames sniffled, wiped his hands eyes and began to sing. His voice trembled at first, "D-doha ya doha wa-alkaaba…" so softly she barely heard him. Amneris had never heard the song before. She held Radames and rocked him as he began to sing louder and more surely. When he had finished the song, she continued stroking his hair and rocking him, listening to him sniffle.

But the quiet after his song left a bruise on her heart. "Sing another," she prompted. "Please, Radames."

Radames coughed to clear his throat. Then he began another song, "Numi numi yaldati…"

To her surprise, Amneris heard herself joining in, "Numi numi nim…"

Radames looked up at her.

"Numi numi k'tanati  
Numi, numi nim," they finished together. "How do you know that?" Radames asked. Amneris' mother never sang her lullabies. She died in childbirth.

Amneris shook her head. "I don't know. But I do," she added brightly. She brushed her knuckles across his bruised jaw. "Does it still hurt?"

Radames closed his eyes. Of course it did. Of course it would. "You lost it," he murmured. "That... stupid game."

She opened her mouth and thought she would laugh, but she began to cry.

Radames' eyes opened. "Yeah," he said. "You did that, then, too."

"I'm sorry." Amneris wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Radames, I… I know you won the game. You were always smarter than me."

Radames shook his head. "No," he murmured. "You were just no good at senet. Amneris, you can tell everyone you beat me if you want," he offered.

She raised an eyebrow. That contrasted everything she had heard about men. Radames had a legitimate claim to pride and no reason to sacrifice it. "Why?" she asked.

"Tonight," he said, slowly, "never happened."

Amneris nodded dumbly, then the meaning of his words struck her. She was never to speak of this to anyone. He wanted no questions about what his father had done right there before her eyes. It was almost as if—no, it was as if—no, Amneris realized suddenly, it was that—he had asked her to un-make the past hour. "But Radames… my father…" He would never stand for such treatment.

Radames shook his head.

Amneris lowered her eyes. In all her life she could not remember so solemn a moment. She nodded. "All right, Radames."

He hugged her tightly. It was the first time Radames had hugged Amneris, and the strength of his body made her feel safe. She relaxed against him, resting her head on his chest. Radames had asked her to turn a blind eye. With his arms to keep her safe, Amneris would

_the end_


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